by N. K. Smith
Turning away from my computer, I slid over to my keyboard, plugging in my headphones and letting my fingers fly over the keys. There were times when I composed and it was a very cognitive thing. I had to think about the notes and how to arrange them. Then there were times when the music simply poured out of me, the composition already complete in my head and I didn’t know where it came from. This was one of the times when I didn’t have to work for it. The music just flowed, leaving my brain to pick up whatever subject was floating through my mind at the moment.
At first I thought about her blue eyes contrasting against her light brown hair, but then I wondered if Sophie truly felt as empty as her responses sounded. Perhaps they were all she would allow herself. I understood what it felt like to dream about things that I was sure were impossible to achieve.
Even though there were a million things that I never really thought I could have, I still tried for them. Maybe Sophie gave up. Maybe she had given up all hope and settled for the small contentment she had now.
I wondered what had made her give up. I wondered what her mom had done to her to make her simply not care anymore.
Everyone was gathered around the large dining room table. By “everyone” I mean my adopted family, Trent, and the Wallaces. It was like most evenings when both Robin and Stephen were not working. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced they were in some kind of relationship. While I picked at the Chinese take-out and thought about Kate’s home-cooked meals, I watched them.
Robin looked at him a total of two times, and he looked at her five times. Even when they were talking to each other, they were looking at something else. She was obviously much better at pretending than he was, but I wondered how I had failed to notice this before. How long had they been together and why wouldn’t they just tell us?
This was the problem. It wasn’t that I didn’t like, or didn’t trust Stephen, and Robin was as enjoyable as a therapist could be, but they both seemed to act like we were all fragile and would break at any moment.
Even with all of our collective pasts, I thought we could handle the news that they were dating or sleeping together, or whatever it was that they were doing. It would actually be a good thing; a positive thing. Couldn’t they figure out that perhaps it might be good for us to have this knowledge? Maybe putting a label on something could help us. Maybe we needed to know that she was a mother figure, and not just some professional shrink trying to analyze our every move.
“Elliott?”
I looked up at Stephen. He had apparently been speaking. “Y-y-yes?”
“Robin asked you a question.”
I turned to her, becoming aware that Robin had always worn two hats in this house. Right now she looked like a mother.
“I just asked if you had sent in your college applications yet.”
Even though I was only a junior and it was much too early to be submitting applications, my guidance counselor, Stephen, and I all agreed I could skip my senior year. I had no desire to prolong my time in high school and although the prospect of college scared me, being away from my tormentors always seemed like a good idea.
The problem was that although I’d filled out the paperwork, I’d done nothing else. I sighed, knowing that both she and Stephen wouldn’t like the answer. “N-no.”
I heard Stephen sigh and I turned to see his disappointed face.
“He still has tons of time,” Jane said in my defense.
“But you’ve had the applications completed for months, Elliott. You wanted to go a year early.” It wasn’t hard to hear the displeasure in my adopted father’s voice. “Why don’t you just send them off?”
“Do you need to fine-tune them?” Robin asked.
I looked at her and saw that her therapist hat was back on. She studied me, trying to figure out what my motive was for dragging my feet. When I glanced over at Stephen, he was studying me with his doctor’s eyes, most likely running down any kind of physical or medical reason I hadn’t done it yet.
“N-n-no,” I answered.
“He probably wants to make sure he’s only applying to the schools he really wants to go to, right, Elliott?”
I had no response for David. I hadn’t sent in my applications yet because the thought of doing it caused my lungs to seize and my heart to race. The thought of putting everything about me down on paper, and having someone decide if I was good enough to get into their school, tore at me.
Even if I was accepted to every school where I applied, at worst I would have to leave this house and the comfort of my room and the small cocoon of safety I had woven here. At the least I would have to travel to Frederick Community College thirty minutes away. In either case, I would still have to be around all new people.
Chris Anderson was mean, but at least I knew it.
I was aware that college was expected, and to be honest, I wanted to go, but knowing that unless I went to the same school as the others, I wouldn’t know anybody, scared me. Rebecca, David, and Trent were planning on going to Stanford. If I was accepted early, I would still have to leave Jane, and now Sophie.
If Trent went to Stanford, Jane would go next year. How could I go somewhere without her? I didn’t even know if Stanford was where I wanted to go.
“If you need some help with--” Robin began, but was cut off.
Rebecca sighed dramatically, causing all eyes to fall on her. “Leave him alone, Mom. He just said that he didn’t need any help.”
I never actually said that, or anything like it, because no one usually allowed me much more than a single syllable answer.
“I-I’ll send them i-i-in on M-Monday,” I said to placate everyone.
Trent caught my eye and gave me a small pitying smile as he scratched his scuffy chin. It meant he was going to divert the attention away from me. He did it a lot and he was good at it. “Stephen, did I tell you about my new motorcycle?”
Stephen cocked his eyebrow, “It came with a helmet, I hope.”
Sleep didn’t come easily. Sunday nights were the worst. Even though I had successfully navigated through another week of small-town high school just a few days before, Sunday nights were when I was prone to small panic attacks.
Sure, I knew what to expect when I got there, but that didn’t stop me from freaking out about it. I knew my stutter hadn’t magically gotten better over the weekend, and that the same small-minded people were going to make fun of me before school even started tomorrow.
The only thing that calmed me somewhat was the knowledge that I would see Sophie Young.
After writing a quick e-mail to Elliott that answered his questions, I got dragged out of the house by Tom. The only reason I didn’t pitch a fit was because it was going to be at the Fox’s place, so Jason would be there.
Apparently Tom went to a lot of get-togethers with the Fox’s and the Collins’. Olivia was Jason’s partner in the Screw-Up Club and her brother Jamie Collins was also a member.
When I got there, I was surprised by how many people were crammed inside the little house. We couldn’t all fit, so there were quite a few people outside, keeping toasty around a fire pit, and holding beers. I wondered how much work this little gathering would end up being for Jace. Having an OCD parent who threw get-togethers had to be exhausting. He probably had to clean for hours just to get the house ready and then after we all infected the place, would have days worth of cleaning. As much as I would’ve hated it, Tom should have held this gathering at his house.
Wait. Didn’t Jace say that his dad hadn’t left the house in years? What was that called? Agoraphobia in addition to OCD? So if he wanted to see friends, it always had to be at his house and then they had to clean for days afterward, I supposed. Damn. Jace’s life sucked.
A football game kept most of the adults blind and in the living room, so everyone under the age of nineteen wa
s out back, sitting around a second fire pit. I was sitting between Jason and Olivia, watching as he packed a bowl.
I had to give him props. Dude was packing up a huge glass piece while all the adults sat inside his house watching the Redskins get spanked. No wonder he was one step away from juvie - not that I could talk.
“Pass that shit over here.” I turned to see one of his friends holding out his hand. He had a lighter in the other. I think his name was Jesse. Megan liked to talk about him. Apparently he’s got some kind of massive penis that scared her, you know, in a good way.
“Whatever, Jesse. This is my gathering and I say thaaaaat...” he drew out the word as he let his dark eyes travel over everyone and then stopped when they landed on me, “Sophie gets the green hit.”
I smiled. Nothing like the green hit when smoking out of a glass pipe, and his shit looked good today, all green and sticky with some orange fluff to accentuate the sparkly crystals.
The bowl went fast, but I got decently high from the two big-ass hits I took. There was a loud noise from inside, presumably due to a touchdown or a fumble or some such thing. It reminded us that there were adults, responsible people, in our midst and the bowl was promptly hidden beneath an upturned flower pot.
Everyone kind of drifted away, here and there, leaving me to sit with Olivia and Jason. I was content to enjoy a silent high, but apparently they weren’t. Olivia mumbled something I didn’t quite catch.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, will you?” I looked over and saw him giving Olivia an exasperated expression. “Just because my dad invited your mother, doesn’t mean I need to listen to any more of that shit.”
“Screw you,” was Olivia’s witty retort.
“Nah, pretty sure I’m not your type, and I heard somewhere that you think you’re too good to suck cock.” With that, Jason got up and walked off toward the house.
“Wow,” I said.
“He’s a prick. I can’t believe you let him stick his dick in you.”
I turned to Olivia now, studying her face. She was scowling, of course. Every time I looked at Olivia, she was scowling. “What?”
“Oh, you heard me.”
“How do you know we—?”
Olivia gave me a look that said, “Duh,” but she said, “He gave you the green hit, didn’t he? In front of all his friends? I’ve known him since we were in diapers and that’s code for marking territory. I’m surprised he didn’t pee on you too.”
I hated possession. He wasn’t dating me. I was just having sex with him. I thought about responding, and setting her straight about what was going on between Jason and me, but decided against it. Saying anything at all would give the impression that I cared.
Silence loomed and it was uncomfortable.
“So…”
“So,” she repeated, “we’re practically sisters, did you know that?”
“What?” It made no sense. We weren’t friends, so how could we be sisters? Was it just the pot clouding my mind and making it impossible to understand her meaning?
“Your dad’s boning my mom.”
My eyes bulged. “What?” I blinked, looking back at the house. “Since when?”
“Since before my dad died, and he died five years ago.”
My mind raced, the pot helping it produce more scenarios than necessary. “What? Wait. Tom’s doing your mom?” She nodded. “He was sleeping with her while she was still married?”
Olivia let out a low chuckle and nodded. “Your dad and my dad were friends from high school. I wonder if my dad ever humped your mom. Maybe it was some kind of…”
I stopped listening when she mentioned my mother. My whole body tensed and it wasn’t from the cold. Standing up, I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to regain the high I’d just been experiencing. “I’m going to find Jason.”
“Shit, Sophie.” I felt Olivia grab my arm and I fought against the urge to hit her. I didn’t like people grabbing me. “I’m sorry if I…”
“It’s cool, Olivia. I don’t care that he’s doing your mom. I just don’t want to talk about it.” I sighed. “I’m cold. Jason can warm me up.”
Once I found him, he tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away and tucked it in the front pocket of my hoodie. I followed him into the house and through the kitchen, pausing to watch Tom for a quick minute. He was next to a dark-haired lady. They didn’t touch until something happened on the TV and they both jumped out of their seats and cheered. During the commotion, before everyone settled back down, their hips touched and he pressed his hand against the small of her back. She looked up at him with a smile and he gave her a soft smile in return.
“You suddenly interested in the ‘Skins’?”
I nearly jumped. I didn’t answer, but instead let Jace grab me around the waist and drag me through the hallway.
“You know, we don’t just have to have sex all the time,” Jason said as he watched me pull my hoodie back over my head.
We were in the bathroom and I could hear Tom cheering and laughing from the living room that was only about five feet away. I drew my attention back to Jason’s face as his tongue swept out to lick his bottom lip.
“What?”
“We could go do something together sometime that doesn’t involve condoms and sticky messes.”
Sick. Boys were disgusting and - hold up - what boy didn’t want to do things that involved sticky messes and condoms? “What are you talking about?”
Jason gave me a shaky smile and then stood up, bringing his pants up with him. “You know, we could do what normal…” he paused, looked down at the floor and then back up at me, “people do.”
“Normal people? What the hell are you talking about, Jace?”
His smile disappeared as he took a deep breath. “Do you want to go to a movie sometime or something?”
Shit, this was not happening. Jason was just a hook-up and a “hook-up.” I had been clear about that and now he wanted to go to the movies with me? I could feel my anger building. “What? Do you want to hold my hand and give me sweet kisses on the cheek while I wear your jacket or some dumb shit like that now?”
It was mean and harsh, and I hated the look on his face when I said it, but it had to be done.
“Jesus, Sophie,” he hissed quietly, his gaze moving to the floor.
“I told you that I don’t date. I don’t want to be someone’s girlfriend. I don’t want the hearts and flowers, and I don’t want a sappy love poem you stayed up all night writing, okay?” I ran my hands through my hair. “And last I knew, neither did you.”
“I just asked about a movie, okay? I didn’t propose.”
“Fine. No, Jason, I don’t want to go to a movie with you. I’d rather let you bend me over your dirty bathroom sink and fuck me so hard that I scream and lose my voice. Okay? Is that acceptable for you, or do you have to buy me dinner first?”
Jason shook his head and then turned to face the mirror. He stared at himself for almost thirty seconds until he turned around to look at me again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I didn’t say that I wanted to be your boyfriend.”
He was calm and I did my best to quell the rising panic. “Good. Because I told you from the beginning that I’m not the girlfriend type.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I don’t hold hands,” I said while smoothing down my hoodie, trying not to think about how desperately I had wanted to hold Elliott’s hand.
“I get it.”
My jaw clenched just as my hands balled up at my sides. After a deep breath, I said, “I don’t want sweet kisses and whispers about love and bullshit.”
“All right, Sophie,” he exhaled.
I put my hand on the doorknob and twisted. “I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Jason. Don’t think that I am.”
“Why are you so messed up?”
I ignored his question and left the bathroom.
It was another two hours after that before Tom thought it was time to go home. I could tell by the lazy smile on his face that he was over the legal limit.
“Give me your keys, Tom.”
“You can’t drive, Soph.”
I sighed and held out my hand. “I’m sure the court would make an exception if it meant no one gets killed by a drunken fireman today.”
He got this look on his face. It was all sad and disappointed. “Sophie, I…”
“Just give me your keys.” My voice held no anger, no harshness. I was tired and I wanted to go home.
He extended his hand and dropped the keys into my palm. “I didn’t mean to drink so much. I’m sorry,” he said as he slipped into the passenger seat.
“It’s cool.”
“No, it’s not cool. I’m your father and I’m setting a bad example.”
I revved the engine as I turned to him, horrified to find that he was a sappy, sad drunk. “Forget about it. We’re cool.”
He was silent for a moment. “Did you get something to eat? I should’ve made sure that you…”
I shook my head and put the SUV in gear. His fixation on my eating was starting to annoy me. “I had food, Tom.”
“Dad,” he whispered as I pulled away from the curb.
I ignored him for the rest of the ride home, but thought about his secret, or not-so-secret, relationship with Linda Collins. Tom drank too much and messed with another man’s wife. I wondered if everybody in Damascus was a screw-up.
“Are you hungry?” I asked as I followed him into the kitchen.
“I am.”
